Falling out of Disarray
by MoonLLotus
Summary: A deranged serial killer is out for blood, and neither hero nor villain is safe from a gruesome death. Mysterion and Chaos team up and do what they must in order to save their own lives. –Bunny, Candy, Style, Creek, Tobe, etc.
1. Death of a Hero

Title: **Falling out of Disarray**

Genre: Mystery/Drama (With a hint of Romance)

Rating: M

Disclaimer: I no own

Summary: Slightly AU. – "This city needs a hero." Easy words to say. You haven't dealt with a real villain yet. – Bunny, Style, Candy, Creek, etc.

Warning: This has boy-love along with some het, coupling includes – Bunny, Style, Candy, Creek, Tobe, Chregory, and Clyred

A BIG THANK YOU to my beta **Hot Monkey Brain**, I love you!

* * *

**1**

The Death of a Hero

* * *

It was all over the front of the newspapers by that afternoon, as well as on the television. There was no news station that wasn't mentioning it, wasn't talking about it, it was everywhere. An up-and-coming reporter by the name of Kenneth McCormick had been the one to find the body earlier that morning on his way home from a late night of work.

The Coon, one of the cities most famous heroes, had been found dead. His heart and stomach had both been carved out of his body, leaving his chest cavity gaping, and his ribs pried apart in the most grotesque manner. His body was left in a dingy side alley, and it was only chance that Kenny had stumbled upon it on his way home. The alleyway was usually a shortcut for the reporter, but when he saw The Coon he immediately took his cell phone out and called the police. After that conversation was done with he took a few photos of the alley where he found the Coon's body for work, it was heartless and soulless, but Kenny honestly needed the money. He didn't take any pictures of The Coon himself however, because no one needed to see that. The cops got on the scene as the sun was rising. Leaning against the brownstone building, Kenny took out a cigarette to calm his nerves; otherwise he was afraid he was going to spill them all over the pavement.

Once the police were done asking him questions, telling him to not even think about leaving town because he was a suspect until they proved otherwise, he made his way up into his cramped apartment, wrote a story to go with the photos and sent them to his boss. Afterwards he threw up everything that had been in his stomach over the past two days. A cool hand came and pulled his hair out of his face as the retched, while the other rubbed soothing circles between his shoulder blades.

"You alright Ken?" His roommate (which was a title that had always made Kenny chuckle in the past since they literally shared a room) asked in a calming voice. Leopold "Butters" Stotch was one of the best people that Kenny knew, and Kenny was relieved to have him there with him.

"S-Sorry if I woke you," Kenny gagged, flushing the toilet and resting his head against the cool porcelain, he knew it was unsanitary but he wasn't sure of what else to do. Taking in a few deep breaths, he allowed Butters to help him undress and got into the shower. Once he was done with rinsing himself off, he gargled the Listerine that Butters always left in the shower no matter how many times Kenny told him not to, and he stepped out of the tub, noticing the other man sitting on the toilet bowl with a fresh towel and clean clothes, waiting for him.

Kenny quickly dried himself off before dressing in his favorite pair of sweats and baggy sleeping shirt; he was sincerely touched by Butters thoughtfulness.

"Would you like to talk about it?" Butters asked quietly, warm hazel eyes watching as Kenny rubbed his hair dry.

The other man was silent for a moment, staring down at the blue tiled floor of their tiny bathroom, they had yet to put a bathroom rug in, they should do that before one of them slipped on the way out of the shower and accidently broke their neck. His eyes traveled over Butters' form, the man was handsome and Kenny wanted nothing more than to hold him close and reassure himself that they were both alive. That what he had seen wasn't real, that The Coon wasn't really gone.

"I," Kenny cleared his throat, "I found…I was on my way home and I found The Coon's body." He hoped the way he had said it would let Butters understand what he meant by 'found…body'. Sometimes the man before him was a little naïve, and Kenny really wasn't in the best mood to explain it to him.

Butters eyes flew up to meet Kenny's, mouth gaping and eyes wide with shock, "Wait…you're saying that The Coon's dead?"

Kenny nodded, and was only a little surprised when Butters wrapped his arms around the standing man's torso and buried his head into his stomach, hands tightening around the fabric of the back of his shirt. Kenny ran his hands through Butters soft hair and held him close, it wasn't the most comfortable position for either of them, but it made him feel a little better. When Butters let go, Kenny leaned down and kissed him. The world was an ugly place, he had just found a super hero killed on the streets, and he was pretty sure that he was going to be hunted down for being the first person to write an article about it, but none of that mattered as his hands roamed Butters body; because with so much wrong with the world, at least he had Butters there to help him deal with it all.

* * *

Wendy Testaburger wasn't the first on the scene; in fact most of the officers didn't even want her there. The woman was too close to The Coon, and even though the other officers took it hard, they knew this loss was going to hit her worst. There were rumors around the precinct about Wendy's relationship with the masked hero, but no one dared to question things about what might've been between them, as long as things remained professional while at work then nobody cared.

Wendy pushed through the throng of officers with a quick flash of her badge. She had been called early that morning by one Kyle Broflovski, the district attorney, informing her in a calm voice that The Coon was found dead, and that 9-1-1 had already been called and was on the scene. She wasn't sure how the district attorney would know such a thing when she didn't, so she didn't believe him. She didn't want to. She had to see for herself for the news to sink in.

The streets were filled with dirty snow and trash as she ducked beneath the yellow police tape and went further into the dingy alleyway; it was revolting and smelled like dumpster. She covered her nose in disgust as she made her way further into the alley and silently thanked God that they had already covered the body, but by the way the sheet was sticking up in odd angles she knew that Coon had not died peacefully.

"Testaburger!" The gruff voice of the young chief of police, Clyde Donovan, barked at her, "What the hell are you doing here?"

There was a breeze that passed between them, the stench of rotting corpse, blood, and trash made Wendy's eyes water as she tried not to gag and gave Clyde a fierce glare, "I just needed to see it. Where's the witness?"

Clyde gave her a searching look, dark brown eyes were tired, making him look years older then he really was "The witness was one Kenneth McCormick; he lives in this building, on the seventh floor, apartment number 702."

Kenny McCormick, it made sense that he would be the one to find the body; death was something that Kenny was accustomed to, Wendy was sure. She didn't want to see the cloth-covered body anymore, they hadn't unmasked him yet and she was relieved, there was no need for all of them to know who he was. The inside of the apartment building wasn't too bad, old linoleum tiles covered the bottom floor; there was a dusty sofa near the mailboxes and a rickety staircase which led up to the apartments. She made her way to the ancient elevator, pressing down on the number 7 and waiting, grateful that there was no cheesy elevator music playing in the background.

702 was the second apartment to the left, and Wendy took in a deep breath before knocking on the front door.

* * *

Kenny, with the help of medication, had finally fallen into a fitful asleep, and Butters made sure he was as comfortable as possible in their bed. He wanted to take the day off from work, but he knew that wasn't an option, the two of them were saving their days for Christmas, when they planned on getting out of this dump of a city and spend some time together in the Caribbean. Or, if they had enough, move into the suburbs.

He was putting on his tie when there was a knock on the door, making him look up from his difficult tie. Leaving it a gnarled mess, he left the bedroom and walked through their pathetic excuse of an apartment for the front door. Leaving the latch on it he opened the door, saw who it was on the other side, closed the door and then opened it correctly.

"Wendy." Butters breathed, he knew that he shouldn't have been shocked to see her, she was a detective after all, and a masked hero's body was found, by his lover, brutally murdered. "You're here for Kenny."

He moved aside so that she could get into the apartment. The front door automatically led into the tiny living room which consisted of one green hand-me-down sofa and an old flat screen mounted on the wall. To the left was a small archway which led into the small kitchen that barely had room for more than two people, along with a half-table that they used for eating. There was a hallway that was perfectly aligned with the front door that led to a small bathroom and the bedroom that Kenny and Butters shared.

"He's asleep," Butters stated quietly, closing the door behind Wendy.

Wendy studied Butters, he still had the lanky body that he had grown into during high school, had the same messy blond hair that he had tried to comb back but was having no luck with, and the same warm, hazel, eyes that had made all of the girls want to squeal and hug him while growing up. Butters still looked young, innocent, and a bit naïve, but Wendy knew better than to judge him by his looks, she knew that he had a darker side which was a force to be reckoned with.

Butters gazed Wendy over as well, she was still a tiny thing, barely passing 5'3", her once long black hair was cut short in an almost boyish hairstyle, her blue eyes were as cold as ice from years of working in her field. He wondered where that girl who had been so into politics had gone.

"Did Chaos do it?" Wendy asked; hand on her concealed gun which was just on the inside of her blazer.

"No," Butters snapped, "And you will not accuse him of such a thing again. Chaos has never killed anyone, intentionally or otherwise." They were both tense, the air seemed to crackle around them as they stared each other down. After a few terse seconds Wendy visibly relaxed.

"You're right, he wouldn't," She sighed, rubbing her eyes as she plopped down onto the surprisingly well cushioned sofa, "I haven't read the report yet, I don't know how bad it is."

Leaning against the wall near the TV, Butters crossed his arms and worried his lower lip before saying, "Ken said that it was ugly. It was so bad that he threw up a few times when he came home. He said that—" that The Coon's ribs had been pried apart and his lungs were pushed aside while his heart was missing and his stomach was sliced open and removed as well. That there was blood everywhere, and the stench alone would've made Kenny puke if not for the fact that he was used to it. Butters let his sentence hang though, unsaid words remained cautiously balanced on the tip of his tongue.

Blue eyes looked up into hazel, the entire place smelled like fresh linen, and she knew that was Butters doing rather than Kenny's, "Can you give me Kenny's alibi? Please, at least that."

The man sighed tiredly; the sun was just peaking through the hallway's window in the apartment, giving everything a soft glow. "He was working all night. He's been aiming for this promotion, so he's been putting an unnecessary amount of hours in. Stanley Marsh was with him all night if you need someone to vouch for him."

Wendy stood up, "Thank you for your time. I'll talk to Stan, if Chaos hears anything in the underground, please let me know."

"I will," Butters nodded as he walked the woman to the front door again, "Wendy, I don't know how often you're going to hear this today, but I'm sorry for your loss. I know how close you and Er— The Coon were."

For the first time all morning Wendy felt hot tears prickling the back of her eyes, she gave Butters a tight smile, "I'm sorry for my loss too. The only thing I can do now is hunt down the bastard who did it."

They parted ways and Butters went back to trying to fix his tie. Chaos, his alter-ego, and a super villain in this god-awful town, had been quiet these last few weeks. The most Chaos did were heists, robbing the rich and whatnot, but murder was never part of his M.O. Butters frowned at himself in the mirror, he was going to have to keep Chaos low for a while, until things were settled.

He turned on the bathroom sink's faucet and let the water run for a few moments while he thought. The Coon AKA Eric Cartman used to be a good friend of his, even when he was Chaos, they played their roles well, but there was no real animosity between them. The reality of it was that they were just two adults acting out their greatest childhood fantasy, and now one was dead because of it.

Butters blinked away tears of anger, he didn't have the time to mourn; he had to get to work.

* * *

Stanley Marsh was a newspaper photographer, it wasn't something that he enjoyed, he'd much rather be something like a teacher or fireman, something. But he chose newspaper photographer because it was a way he was able to always be at the scene of a crime. He had spent the entire night developing film, photos from Chaos' and The Coon's last fight as well as some photos of Mysterion beating on some bad guys. It was all typical stuff, but since Stan was always able to get the shot he always got paid a good amount of cash.

When Kenny had emailed Stan those photos and that story, it had made Stan sick. He had always had a weak stomach, ever since he was a child, and he had never really grown out of it.

Kenny would give Stan credit for the pictures, but Stan wasn't sure if he wanted the credit. Still, he needed the money, so after proofreading everything he sent it to their editor and left the office. The sun was already high up in the sky by the time he got onto the sidewalk. People in suits were making their way to work while he was making his way home.

He sat in the subway, running both gloved hands through his dark hair and closing tired blue eyes. This was all too much. He took out his cell and texted his best friend, knowing that the man would be awake and on his way to work.

_The Coon's dead. _

The text was simple enough, and Stan pressed the send button with no further hesitation. He switched trains once more before getting off at the right stop and making his way home, breath hanging in the cold winter air. His apartment was in view and he opened the front door of the building quickly, closing it shut firmly before making his way up three flights of stairs to his place. It was an hour commute to and from work, and he really should've moved if he wanted to really get somewhere with his career, but he liked where he lived too much to do just that.

Entering his sparsely furnished apartment, he jumped at the sight of his super best friend, Kyle Broflovski, sitting on his living room's couch and flipping through the channels on his ancient tube TV.

"You should've been at work by now," Stan stated, toeing off his shoes and peeling off all of the layers of clothing that he had on his body. Kyle lived in an upscale apartment in The Village; there was no need for him to be in Stan's neighborhood, especially since he worked in the city as well.

The redhead watched Stan take off his extra articles of clothes, brown eyes drinking in the sight. "I figured we could spend the day together. One of our childhood friends just died." His voice cracked at the end of that sentence and he leaned forward, elbows on knees, hands on face. He rubbed his face tiredly and took in a few deep breaths. As much as Kyle disliked The Coon they did grow up together, they had been frienemies almost their entire lives. They had this deep understanding, a connection of sorts, and now he was dead.

Stan groaned as he sat on the couch, it felt as if his entire body was on the verge of shutting down, "So you know who The Coon was." He stated, moving his head to get a better look at the other man.

Kyle snorted at that. "It was kind of hard to not know. You've got to be a dumbass to not see who he really was. I just can't figure out who Chaos and Mysterion are," Kyle's brown eyes looked over at his best friend, not surprised to see that Stan was starting to doze off next to him.

The redhead moved some of Stan's raven locks out of his face, scrutinising his features before nudging him gently, "Come on dude, let's get you changed and in bed."

Half an hour after Stan had fallen fast asleep, there was a knock on the apartment door. Kyle ran a hand through his messy red hair and opened it without second thought, unsurprised at the sight of Wendy on the other side. "Come on in."

She followed him in, closing the door behind her and taking in her surroundings. Stan's apartment wasn't very large and the fact that it was so far from the city made it cheap. The living room slash dining room took up most of the place, decorated with a pair of worn leather couches, low wooden coffee tables, and an old tube TV. To the left was a tiny kitchenette that had an open bar that faced the living room. Off of the kitchen was a door that led to the only bathroom in the apartment and across the short hall from that was Stan's sparsely furnished bedroom. The apartment wasn't as domesticated at Butters and Kenny's.

"Have a seat," Kyle nodded towards a couch as he gave Wendy a cup of coffee, being the hospitable host that he had been raised to be. "I'm a little confused as to why you're here."

"I can say the same about you," Wendy stated, regarding Kyle with watchful eyes, "Why're you here, instead of at work?"

Kyle felt his face heat up as he took a sip of his coffee before answering, "Stan needed me." His voice was quiet and his eyes looked up at her, as if daring her to say something against his reasoning.

"So he's asleep now?" She asked instead, noticing how the TV was on cartoons rather than the news. It seemed unlike Kyle to watch such frivolous programming, but with the way the day started out she couldn't blame him.

The man nodded, "Yeah, but if you want an alibi you can talk to Kenny McCormick, Stan was at work with him all night as far as I know."

Placing the empty, chipped, white mug down upon the coffee table, Wendy sighed and nodded. "I figured that they were both innocent, Butters is too, there aren't any leads." She bit her quivering lower lip as she curled inwards, hands linked behind her neck, pulling her body forward. "I don't know what I'm going to do Kyle."

"Get off the case."

"What?" Her head snapped up quickly, eyes narrowed at the man who was sitting on the other couch.

"You heard me," Kyle frowned, "You shouldn't be involved in this anyways; it's too close for you; too personal."

Before the discussion got a chance to escalate into some kind of argument, Stan made his appearance. Dragging his feet and wearing nothing but a thin pair of black boxers, he leaned heavily against the kitchenettes limited bar space and looked at the two in his living room. "You guys mind keeping it down a bit?"

Wendy was about to open her mouth to say something to the man but the words died in her throat. Stan's body was littered with thin scars, as well as large ones, nasty bruises, and welts. She put a hand over her mouth to prevent her from screaming at the sight, she had seen worse on battery victims, but it was always easy to disassociate herself from strangers. Stan wasn't a stranger to her.

"We're sorry that we woke up," Kyle said in a soothing voice, taking the throw blanket that had been draped behind him on the couch and placing it over Stan's bare shoulders, covering the man's body from Wendy's eyes.

"S'alright," Stan yawned, shuffling back to his bedroom and closing the door. The two in the living waited a few moments before they decided that it was okay to continue talking.

"What happened to him?" Wendy asked, brow furrowed and stress lines deepening.

"You have enough on your plate Wends, let me take care of Stan," Kyle said to her. He had a frown marring his face, looking as if he were just appointed the task of saving the world. It was a feeling that Wendy could relate to.

* * *

It wasn't until much later, in the dead of night where there was no one around to hear or see her, that Wendy cried. She curled up on His side of the bed, head buried into his pillow as she inhaled the remains of his scent that clung onto the fabric. Her body shook violently as she let it all out. The mortician, as well as everyone else involved with what to do with his body, had yet to unmask The Coon until Wendy said it was okay to do so. She still had to call his mother and tell her the news.

She kept her TV off, The Coon's death was on almost every station.

Everything was just too much for the raven haired woman; she shakily sat up in her bed, reached over to her bedside table and grabbed some Ambient that the doctor had prescribed her, swallowing a pill and collapsing back onto the bed. She was so angry at him for dying, for being foolish enough to get caught by someone and killed. She hated him for making her fall in love with him. On his nightstand there was a picture of the two of them from when they took a vacation to the Florida Key's during the summer, it was something that they could look at during the night time when one of them was busy working.

Wendy threw the frame onto the floor, and curled away from it, "Eric." She began to cry again, unable to stop herself until the sleeping medication kicked in.

On the other side of the city Mysterion stared at the spot that they had found The Coon's body that morning.

"You're not going to find anything," The voice from the shadows caused Mysterion to jump and instantly be on guard, eyeing Chaos warily as he came out his hiding, "The cops cleaned everything up well, almost can't tell that there was such a gruesome scene here this morning."

Mysterion took out the baton that he had hidden in the back of his cloak, "Here to kill me too? The murderer always returns to the scene of the crime you know."

Chaos chuckled insanely, "Like you're one to talk Myst. I've actually been waiting for you. Here," He shoved a folder into the man's hands, "That is for you."

"What is it?" Mysterion asked cautiously, knowing better than to trust Chaos.

"A list. I've been doing my homework." The man pulled his own cloak tighter around his slim body as a cold puff of air flew by the two. "There've been a string of murders similar to Coon's over the last six months within the tri-state area. Superheroes such as Blue Rude Girl, Lolipop, Immoral Justice, and Ghetto Rican have all been killed off, as well as super villains such as Sicko, Lone Wolf, and Kinderteacher. All of them were found with organs missing."

Mysterion glanced down at the folder before looking back up at Chaos, "So we have ourselves a super's serial killer."

"Mm," Chaos nodded, looking up at the brownstone buildings, everyone in the apartments were fast asleep, something that he planned on being sometime soon as well. Overhead the moon was trying to peek through the cities thick smog. It was a dreary night, and it looked as if rain might pour down on them at any moment, which would have been fitting considering the mornings events. "You might want to tell all of your super friends about it. Tell them to lay low; I'll do the same with the guys on my side. They might be considered 'evil' in the eyes of society, but no one deserves to go the way Coon did."

"I'll find you when I need you," Mysterion said as Chaos began to walk away from him.

"Yeah," Chaos said over his shoulder, "I know."

* * *

Kyle had been fast asleep, but the tapping on his window caused him to sit up abruptly and search around, wide eyed. This wasn't his apartment. After a few unsettling seconds he realized that he was still at Stan's, having fallen asleep on the couch.

The tapping on the window began again; causing the man's heart to race as he looked over at the only window in the living room. On the fire escape was Mysterion.

"How the hell did you find me?" Kyle hissed as he opened the window, he glared at the man on the other side. Mysterion shoved a folder into the redheads hands and looked into his brown eyes.

"I need you to do research for me," Mysterion said, voice kept low.

Kyle seethed, "I'm the district attorney, not your sidekick!"

"Kyle," The way the superhero said his name made the redhead's anger dissolve. As if a bucket of cold water were poured over his emotions, "Please."

"Fine," Kyle said through clenched teeth, and then Mysterion was gone. Kyle held back from slamming the window shut, he glanced at Stan's closed bedroom door, throwing the folder onto the coffee table and collapsing back onto the couch. It had been a very long day.

* * *

**TBC**

* * *

**Evil Chibi Kitten**: I've never written anything like this, so bear with me lol. It's refreshing actually, to let my inner super hero geek come out XD. Anyways, please review, they keep me

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**COVER ART FOUND HERE: dylancg. deviantart **


	2. Heroes and Villains

Title: **Falling out of Disarray**

Genre: Mystery/Drama (With a hint of Romance)

Rating: M

Disclaimer: I no own

Summary: Slightly AU. – "This city needs a hero." Easy words to say. You haven't dealt with a real villain yet. – Bunny, Style, Candy, Creek, etc.

Warning: This has boy-love along with some het, coupling includes – Bunny, Style, Candy, Creek, Tobe, Chregory, and Clyred

A BIG THANK YOU to my beta **Hot Monkey Brain**, I love you!

* * *

**2**

Heroes and Villains

* * *

Craig Tucker was fast asleep when his cell phone went off, causing him to jump up and look around his shared, messy, bedroom. Glancing down at the blond who was next to him he let out a sigh of relief, the other was still very much asleep.

Holding in a growl of annoyance, Craig grabbed his cell phone which was on his bedside table. The name BUTTERS showed on the caller I.D.

"Ugh," Craig rolled his eyes, getting out of bed and shimmying into a pair of boxers that had been torn off earlier in the evening before walking out of the room and towards the decently spaced kitchen. "Yeah?" He asked as he finally answered his phone.

"Punkster needs to lay low for a while, there's a serial killer going around offing supers," Butters voice was low and Craig had slight difficulty hearing him.

"That's who took out lard-ass?" Craig asked, leaning against the cool marble countertop. When he had heard the news of The Coon's death earlier that day he was shocked, but he had to put his reaction on hold when his lover began to flip out. Tweek Tweak was not known for taking bad news well, but what else is to be expected from a paranoid schizophrenic with ADHD? However now, in the cool darkness of his kitchen, he allowed his reaction to wash over him.

"Yeah," Butters sounded tired. Not sleepy tired, but the type of tired that made one wonder how long he was going to be able to survive in such an ugly world. "I'm just calling everyone I know to warn them."

Craig ran a hand through his shaggy dark hair, "Who's on the case?"

"Testaburger."

"Shit."

"I know," Butters sighed. They both knew that Wendy was too close to this to solve it properly. They were all too close to it.

Craig went silent for a moment. If he strained his ears he could hear Tweek mumbling in his sleep. Whatever pills the doctors had the blond man on were good, because Tweek was sleeping through the night peacefully. Craig envied that he had that luxury. "If you need me for anything don't be afraid to let me know." No matter how selfish Craig could be, he genuinely meant it.

"Will do; sorry for waking you Craig." Butters apologized before hanging up, he was probably going to call whomever was next on his list.

The dark haired man took in a few deep breaths before heading back towards the shared master bedroom and large king sized bed that was awaiting his return.

Tweek was a multimillionaire. Harbucks was the most popular coffee shop worldwide, but none of that mattered, because he was still the same as he was when he was a child. "Gnomes man, gnomes," Tweek whimpered in his sleep.

"If only things were that simple again." Craig curled closer to his lover, not wanting to let him go, at least not for the rest of the night.

* * *

Clyde Donovan was a worrier by nature, some would think it caused him to be on the constant edge of paranoia, but it was what caused him to fly through the ranks so quickly. It was the reason why he was Chief of Police at the young age of thirty-two.

He had married a little over a year ago to his beautiful wife Rebecca "Red" Donovan, who was now just over six months pregnant with their first child.

It was a sunny Sunday morning, which Clyde had taken it off months beforehand so that he and his wife could spend what little precious time they had together. But imagine his surprise when he heard her talking on the phone with an "old friend" and found out a secret about her that she was probably never going to tell him.

Rebecca's phone had gone off during breakfast, the name MISTY on her caller I.D caused her brow to wrinkle in confusion. "I really need to take this call, be back in a jiff," she smiled warmly at her husband and left the kitchen for the den.

"Why are you calling me? I gave all of that stuff up!" Rebecca hissed into the phone, running a hand through her short red hair.

"I'm aware of that," Mysterion stated simply, "But there is a serial killer going around attacking supers. I'd thought that Red Hood should know, because we're not sure if they're hunting non-active supers as well."

"Red Hood is as good as dead either way." Rebecca paced the room. "Listen Myst, I'm not going back to the life of crime stopping and whatnot, that's what we have the police for, and you telling me this is putting too much stress on my body."

Mysterion was silent for a moment, and when he spoke again he sounded so tired that Rebecca felt a surge of pity towards him, "I understand. Just take care of yourself."

"I will, you take care of yourself too Mysterion. You're this city's hero now." They hung up at the same time and Rebecca took in a few deep breaths before leaving the den, only to literally run into her husband. "Oh... Clyde."

"You're Red Hood." He stated simply. He looked her over, trying to imagine her with the red hooded cloak, black leotard, black tights, black mask, and thigh high black boots. "Two months before our wedding Red Hood just vanished, we all thought that something terrible happened to her, but she just got married." He chuckled with no humor, voice strained.

"Clyde, please don't react this way," Rebecca frowned, light brown eyes looking at Clyde's dark brown ones.

Her husband rubbed his eyes. "I should get back to the precinct. Mysterion doesn't call or contact anyone for no reason. And I've got to make sure that Wendy's not there." He moved back down the hall of their tiny house, and Rebecca watched him the entire time.

* * *

Kevin Stoley was taking out the trash from his comic book shop on the other side of town; he was just going to the dumpster before going back to his shop. He had one employee so he didn't have to go back right away, which gave him a chance for a cigarette break and maybe a call to his girlfriend to ask her if she wanted to go out for dinner later that night.

He walked towards the dumpster, did what he was intending to do, but stopped short when he noticed a human hand on the other side of the large metal container. The man's blood went cold. The hand was obviously that of a woman's, her black nail polish was chipped and there was dried blood on her finger tips, as if she'd had the fight of her life. It was too bad for her that she lost.

Biting his lower lip, Kevin took out his cell phone and called the police, not bothering to go and check the body out.

Stan and Kenny were the first reporters on the scene, having intercepted the call before the cops got a chance to get to it. The body was covered, thank God, but the woman they found had been a hero who went by the name Vulture, in real life she was known as Henrietta. Her heart, like The Coon's, had been missing, an obvious sign of the serial killer.

Stan idly took photos of the alleyway, disturbed to realize that all of the previous murder victims were all found in an alleyway, with the exception of the first one which was found at a local park six months ago.

"This is getting eerie." Kenny stated, taking out a cigarette and lighting it irritably. "This is the second hero found in two days."

The photographer nodded silently, taking in the scene before them. The blood had already dried on the asphalt between the two buildings, someone would probably come back and pressure wash it off later. "It get's really cold at night now. That's really messing with what the time of death could've been," Stan frowned.

The blond next to him inhaled deeply, "Why didn't you ever become a detective or some shit man? You're good at solving these things."

Instead of answering Stan worried his bottom lip and looked to his companion, "What are you doing at work today dude? After what you saw yesterday…I'd have figured you'd take sick leave."

"I can't let shit like that get me down," Kenny answered automatically, his eyes glazing over, "I've been through worse."

"What are you two doing here?" The voice from the lip of the alleyway echoed towards them, causing both men to turn. Clyde stood there with his arms crossed and a deep frown marring his face. "The press can't be all over this shit already."

The two reporters made their way towards Clyde, Kenny offered him a cigarette. "We're not even going to bother to harass you with questions, and it's all pretty clear what had happened to Vulture. Looks like a serial killer."

Clyde inhaled the cigarette that Kenny had given him, "Serial killers are the hardest fuckers to catch. Usually they taunt the cops and we can see if they'll slip up like that somehow, but this one's been silent. Apparently there've been a string of murders throughout the last six months within the tri-state area; it's getting real ugly out here." He blew out some smoke rings, obviously deep in thought. "I'm the one stuck unmasking these heroes and villains and calling their families to claim the bodies since no one else at the precinct wants to know who they were."

"You unmasked Coon?" Kenny asked with a slight arch of his brow, flicking his cigarette butt onto the dirty ground and crushing it with the toe of his shoe.

"Yeah, but I've already got this feeling that you two knew who he was before all this. Hell, I'm pretty sure everyone from South Park knew who he was," Clyde ran a hand through his hair, making it messier than it already was, "I'm thinking of leaving the city after this whole case is solved, maybe transferring to some small town."

"You're commissioner, how will you be able to transfer like that?" Kenny asked while putting his hands into his pocket. To this Clyde shrugged, not knowing how to answer.

Stan finally spoke up, startling the two men out of their thoughts. "Where's Wendy?"

"Last I checked she was in the station. Holed up in her office, talking to Liane Cartman," Clyde stated. The three of them stayed silent for a few moments, unsure with what to do with themselves or how to act. Clyde's voice broke the silence once more. "I've known so many heroes while working in this city, and I know some of their identities. Now it's like I'm expecting everyone I grew up with to be a part of this whole hero verses villain game."

Kenny snorted, "Trust me when I say I'm not. I've saved the world one too many times to worry about such petty things. And ever since Butters and I got serious I couldn't see the point of risking my neck willingly like that, not with my track record. I just don't see the point in getting myself killed for others again."

Stan stared up at the gray sky; it was getting colder around them, a sure sign of snow.

* * *

Kyle had gone to work that day, having seen no point in staying home. A text from Stan early on in the day told him that another hero was found dead and he knew that he had to do that research for Mysterion as soon as he could, before anyone else died. The redhead laid his head down on top of his large, mahogany, desk and breathed deeply. A knock on his office door caused him to immediately straighten up as Token Black walked in, shutting the door firmly behind him. Token was the assistant D.A who had worked along side Kyle since day one on the job.

"What can I do for you?" Kyle asked with a forced smile, it felt stretched and strained.

Token shifted around in his expensive suit, putting his hands into his blazer. "The Panther wanted to know if you could tell Mysterion that she wants to meet with him tonight at midnight, at their usual rendezvous." The Panther was another hero, who often did crazy stunts in order to catch the bad guy and used Token as an unofficial sidekick slash informant, "I'm not sure what it's all about though."

"I can relay that message," Kyle sat back in his plush faux leather chair. "Ever thought of being a super hero?"

Token laughed at the question. "I'd like to believe that us D.A's are super heroes of our own kind, without having to wear stupid costumes or breaking the law. Although I must say that being a vigilante does look kind of cool from afar," he admitted. "Hey, how 'bout we go out to lunch? You look like you could use a good Kosher meal."

"Yeah, sounds good, I could use some food to take my mind off of things," Kyle stated, standing from his seat and walking with Token out of his office. He wished that he weren't so involved with what was happening to the supers, it'd be wonderful if he were just another ignorant civilian who was sadden by the deaths of the heroes (and maybe some villains) but not wholly affected by the situation.

* * *

"You know, it doesn't make much sense," Kenny finally said to Stan while the two of them were having their lunch in their adjacent cubicles. They were in cubicle city, the entire floor was made out of nothing but, people were running around in-between, or popping up from their cubicle and looking very similar to meerkats. Phones were buzzing and ringing all around them and voices were raised to make being able to be heard easier. Although how that was accomplished was a mystery. Everything about it screamed stereotype, but it was a huge positive compared to where they were located in the building last year. The basement was not the place one wanted to be at any time of year, and most low ranking reporters were stuck down there.

Stan picked at his carton of chicken lo mien with a pair of chopsticks, having already done almost all of his work for the day, which was a good thing because he desperately wanted to go home to sleep. "What doesn't make sense?"

"This whole serial killer thing, two bodies in two days? Isn't that a bit much?" Kenny asked, dipping his eggroll into some sweet and sour sauce before taking a large bite.

His raven haired companion nodded to himself slowly, "It might just be the killers' way of taunting the police," he yawned, "and the other supers."

"With luck they'll catch him," Kenny stated, voice steely. It caused Stan to look over at his friend, confusion evident in his expression. "Guys like that shouldn't even be allowed to exist. I want the courts to stick the needle into him."

Stan stared at Kenny with wide eyes, "Whoa, Ken."

Kenny sighed. "Sorry about that," he had an easy smile back on his face, "The world's an ugly place Stanny, and sometimes I regret saving it."

* * *

"You're late," were the first words that came out of The Panthers' mouth. She gave Mysterion a hard look from beneath her mask, dark brown eyes narrowed and mouth set into a firm line. Her costume was a bit altered from the last time Mysterion had seen her, still a black trench coat with black boots, and a black mask on her face, but her dirty blonde hair was up in two buns on either side of her head.

"It happens. What did you want to tell me?" They were on the top of one of the lower buildings in the city, overlooking Main Street, traffic was still going despite the time of night it was.

The Panther crossed her arms over her ample chest, "I'm quitting this gig. I'm going the way of Red Hood, getting married and planning on having lots of babies."

"I'm happy for you," Mysterion stated, eyes flicking down to the busy streets below them, "How long have you been deciding this?"

"Two weeks. Basically ever since he first asked me," The Panther stated, "And after what happened to Coon and Vulture…I just think it'd be safer this way."

"You and the assistant D.A will be very happy together, invite me to the wedding yeah?" Before The Panther got a chance to respond Mysterion was gone again.

"That guy," Panther frowned to herself, tsking and shaking her head in annoyance. Her cell phone buzzed in her inner pocket, and she took it out. _Token_. With a smile she picked up the phone. "Hey honey, I'll be home soon."

The Panther honestly didn't want to give up the life of a vigilante, but with the way everything was getting, it was dangerous to even be a hero anymore.

* * *

Mysterion snuck into Kyle's apartment with no problem, which worried him a bit. Blue eyes narrowed but otherwise he remained silent. He maneuvered his way through the posh living room with its plush couches and huge flat screen, past the clean and decent sized kitchen, down the hallway, passed a bathroom that was across the hall from a spare bedroom, until he reached the door which was next to the bathroom. The door was closed; light peeking through form underneath, this was Kyle's office. It was little more than a desk against one wall and books shoved onto an overfilled bookcase against the far wall, but it was still his work space. Without bothering to knock Mysterion opened the door.

"I figured you were going to show up," Kyle stated, he was clad in a thin tank top and baggy sweats, looking much more comfortable than he ever usually appeared to be. "Although to be honest I'm getting tired of this whole breaking and entering thing you've got going on for you."

"You've got news for me?" The masked man asked, leaning against the doorjamb.

Kyle stood up from his computer chair, long legs unfolding themselves as his feet touched the floor steadily. "I have a lead, but I want you to promise me that if this shit get's too much to handle then you've got to let it drop. You may be a super hero, but this is not a game. If this killer gets you too then you're done for."

Hooded eyes regarded him silently, but Mysterion nodded slowly, "Alright."

"The main lead is…is Chaos," He worried his bottom lip.

"Thank you Kyle," Mysterion said. Chaos couldn't have been the main suspect, that was much too simple, and he just couldn't see the man doing such grotesque things to a human corpse. But him knowing something, whether he realized it or not – that was less of a stretch.

He looked up and locked eyes with the redhead, they seemed to gravitate closer to one another until they were less than a foot apart. Kyle's brown eyes flicked down to Mysterion's mouth. "Kyle," Mysterion breathed, "We shouldn't."

"Why?" Kyle asked innocently. "Either of us could die at any moment, give me a good reason why we shouldn't," he moved closer to the other man.

"You don't even know who I am."

"You may have everyone else fooled. With your mask, cloak, and fake voice, but I've looked into your eyes every day since I was in preschool. Then there's the fact that your body's littered with scars and still-healing bruises. Did you think I was that stupid?" He had an amused look on his face, his smirk slanted to the right.

"That might just be your imagination putting those pieces together; maybe you just want me to be that person that you're talking about."

"Your father might have taught you how to lie, but you're still shit at it," Kyle was closer to him now; they were so close that they almost shared the same breathing space. "You're just lucky that I've taken it all so calmly and that I haven't pulled a bitch fit like my mom and demand that you hang up the mask."

"I'm just trying to do what I think is right."

"You always have."

Then their lips were brushing against each other in a long awaited kiss. Kyle wrapped his arms around Mysterions neck, removing the hood and running his hands through soft black locks. The hero pushed Kyle up against his desk, pulling Kyle's thighs up so that the encircled his hips.

"How long have you known? Mysterion asked; dropping kisses onto Kyle's collar and the column of his exposed neck.

The redhead made an appreciative noise at the back of his throat, tilting his head back, "For a while. Since that time I went over to your place and found you trying to stitch yourself up."

"Mm," The other man murmured, "I'm sorry that I never told you, it's not that I don't trust you. I just don't want you hurt." His voice was no longer deep and gravely, it was his own. He took his gloves off and now his hands were touching Kyle's bare skin.

"I know," Kyle breathed, their lips meeting once again.

"I have to go soon Kyle. We really don't have the time for—"

"I know Stan."

* * *

He was careful with the window, a pro at breaking and entering for years now. What he didn't expect was a baseball bat to the head. And then everything went black.

Kenny did not expect the man to be Mysterion, he had never seen him so close up before, and it made him a little queasy that he just knocked out the super hero cold. In his defense the man was breaking and entering.

"Jesus Christ!" Butters gasped, kneeling down to Mysterion and lugging the man up as best as he could. "Don't just stand there with your jaw on the ground Ken! Help me get him to the couch!"

Soon their lumpy old sofa was full of superhero, and it made Kenny's head spin. "What do you think he's doing here?" Kenny asked, running a hand through his shaggy hair and pacing from one side of their tiny apartment to the other. "I mean, unless he's here to question me or something. But I've got nothing more to say than what I've told the police."

Butters sighed, grabbing his lovers' arm and forcing him to sit on the sturdy wood coffee table, "He's not here for you," he said calmly, resisting the urge to rub his knuckles together. It was a habit that he had forced himself to get over when he first moved out of his parents house, and he refused to revert.

"Why is he here then?" Kenny looked confused and Butters heart went out to the man. God, he loved him, he just wished that he deserved such a wonderful man. Butters knew better than anyone else that he was no saint, especially now, when he was finally going to tell his lover his major secret. "Why would he be here Butters?"

Butters sighed, rubbing his temples and taking in a few deep breaths. His heart was beating a mile a second and he was pretty sure he'd faint of fear before the words escaped him. So he readied himself, and looked Kenny right in the eye, "He's here to talk to me. Because I'm Professor Chaos."

Kenny stared at him blankly for a few moments, "Wha...? Are you joking?"

"No."

Kenny was silent for a few moments, watching Butters through incredulous blue eyes. He was thinking of how Butters couldn't have been Chaos, not his Butters. This was _Butters_ for Christ's sake! This was the man who was scared of spiders and wanted to chase after rainbows whenever they appeared in the sky. The same man who always gave him a kiss goodnight and a kiss good morning. Chaos couldn't have been the Butters who, whenever they got into a huge fight, would shove Kenny onto the bed and have his way with the man for explosive make-up sex. The same Butters who was giving Kenny a pleading look to accept him.

It was that look that had hit him the hardest.

For a moment Butters was terrified that Kenny was simply going to refuse to believe it, or that he would start to denounce all that he had done as his alter ago and as the seconds stretched out, Butters found he could stand it no longer; he opened his mouth to say something – goodness only knew what – but before he could, Kenny reacted.

"I think…I think that I need some time to think about this," Kenny got up, staggering a bit before heading to their bedroom. Butters was surprised when Kenny came back out dressed, neither of them exchanged a word as Kenny left the apartment. Butters let out a heavy sigh once the door clicked shut.

"That was… brave," Mysterion slurred from the couch. Butters went into the kitchen to get the man some aspirin for the headache he was probably sporting.

"Why are you here?" He asked, handing the man a cup of water to go with his painkillers.

Mysterion gulped them all down without a second though, as much as Chaos was portrayed as a bad guy he really wasn't. He mulled his words over in his head while doing so, thinking of what exactly he could tell Butters before deciding on spitting out the truth, "Because you're the main suspect."

* * *

**TBC**

* * *

**ECK**: So I told my mom about this story and she told me that it was similar to Watchmen…I've never seen and/or read Watchmen before _ It kind of makes me feel unoriginal lol. Oh well, please review! Flames are welcome.


	3. Underbelly of Society

Title:** Falling out of Disarray**

Genre: Mystery/Drama (With a hint of Romance)

Rating: M

Disclaimer: I no own

Summary: Slightly AU. – "This city needs a hero." Easy words to say. You haven't dealt with a real villain yet. – Bunny, Style, Candy, Creek, etc.

Warning: This has boy-love along with some het, coupling includes – Bunny, Style, Candy, Creek, Tobe, Chregory, and Clyred

_A BIG THANK YOU_ to my beta **Hot Monkey Brain**, I love you!

* * *

**3**

Underbelly of Society

* * *

Chaos held his cloak tightly around his body, the harsh winter breeze biting at any exposed skin that he had, causing him to shiver violently. "This city's huge, how the hell are we going to find this guy? I mean, he hasn't screwed up yet."

He was trying to focus on the task at hand. In reality, all he really wanted to do was go back home and be with Kenny. Instead, both he and his lover were out in the dead of night in a city that was getting deadlier by the day. He could only hope that Kenny would make it home safely. Chaos forced himself to look over at Mysterion.

"Luckily for us I have an informant that confirmed that The Mole knows a thing or two about this…situation," Mysterion stated.

"A mercenary?" Chaos sighed. "He's still in this country?" He arched an eyebrow at the superhero. He had only met The Mole a few times in his life, but the mercenary was a very memorable man.

"Yeah, I couldn't believe it either," The hero gave him a wry smile.

The two jumped over the buildings ledge and down into the dark alley below.

* * *

Christophe De'Lorne lived in a surprisingly nice condo in the higher income side of town. The lights were all off at his place and although Mysterion knew better than to just knock on a window when it came to this man, he had no other choice. It would've been impossible to have snuck in through the places lobby when there were security cameras and a receptionist up front.

"It's hard to believe that this is where the black market starts," Chaos snorted besides him on the fire escape. Both men had been relatively silent most of the night, skulking around, taking care of meager thugs and the likes while heading over to The Mole's condo.

Mysterion rolled his eyes before tapping the beat to _La Resistance Lives On_ onto the window pane. A moment later the window opened a gun was pointed out towards him.

"What have we here?" A posh English accent asked, moving the gun away from the two, "Mysterion and Professor Chaos working together eh? Here to solve the murders no doubt. Very well, come in."

The two on the fire escape did as they were told, shielding their eyes as a bright lamp in the living room was flicked on. Once their eyes adjusted they look at the man who was wearing nothing more than black silk boxers and a tight white tank top. His blond hair was a bit disheveled, but his brown eyes were sharp as he stared at the two.

"Gregory of Yardale, it's a pleasure to see you again," Mysterion smirked. It was unexpected to see the man in Mole's condo, especially since last he had heard it the two were having a private war against one another. But, he supposed, people tended to change. And there was a fine line between love and hate.

"Qui est-il amour?" A gruff voice floated into the massive living room from an open door, which most likely led to the master bedroom.

"Deux scélérats ici pour des affaires avec vous." Gregory answered smoothly, "Would either of you like a hot cuppa? I'm suddenly in the mood."

"No, thank you." Chaos answered, and Mysterion could only echo his answer. The sooner they were out of there then the sooner they could continue their hunt.

"N'offrez pas à ces deux idiots mon thé, zey will be leaving soon," Christophe appeared from the darkened doorway, a pair of plaid cotton boxers hanging dangerously low on his narrow hips and a lit cigarette dangling from his full mouth. His brown hair was as messy as usual, and his green eyes narrowed at the two.

Gregory rolled his eyes at the man before making his way further into the condo towards the kitchen for some tea. He obviously wasn't needed for this discussion.

"Always nice to see you," Mysterion tilted his head sarcastically at the man. The mercenary was as pleasant as he always was towards him. The masked hero was willing to bet money that if Kyle were here with them then the Frenchmen might've been more courteous. And that would've annoyed him to no end.

"Mm," Christophe exhaled lazily, and unfortunately looked amazingly cool while doing do. "What iz it zat you want from moi?"

"Information," Mysterion answered simply.

"Information," Christophe echoed, "It will cost you mon ami."

"What is it that you want?" Chaos asked, arms crossing his chest. He looked as if he were more than ready to fight for whatever The Mole knew. And Mysterion had a feeling that Chaos wasn't afraid of guns or of getting shot at.

"Un baiser." Christophe smirked, taking another drag of his cigarette before translating what he had just said, "I want a kiss from ze redhead." He had said it low enough so that Gregory couldn't hear him from the kitchen.

Mysterion bit the inside of his cheek to prevent himself from exploding at the man.

"Thank you, I'll tell Kyle the payment. Although I doubt he'd be happy to hear it," Chaos said, unsurprised that the Mole knew about Mysterion's affiliation with the D.A. One would think a chain-smoking Frenchman would be too obvious to hang around eavesdropping, yet somehow the man always seemed to have the inside track.

"I admit zat I do not know much. 'owever, I 'ave 'eard zat he 'as a warehouse at ze south docks just outside of town. Zere 'ave been reports of screaming from zere at odd times at night."

That was more information than they had to begin with, and even through there were over two dozen warehouses along the south docks it was start.

"Thank you," Chaos said, walking back towards the window that they came in through.

"If you two are going to face zis killer would it not be smart to, 'ow do you say, pack 'eat?" The mercenary asked, stubbing out his cigarette butt on an ashtray that was in the middle of his coffee table. Gregory made his way over with two mugs of steaming tea, giving one to the Frenchman.

"I admit that it would be wiser to have some sort of useful weapons other than the barbaric ones that the two of you usually have," The Englishman confessed. "Or at least have some sort of back up at the ready."

"We'll need to investigate everyone who owns or rents those warehouses first," Mysterion stated, "It's almost morning. We'll check things out tomorrow night and if we find anything we'll get Donovan and his men to help us out. I want this fucker off the streets."

* * *

Kenny had wanted to go to Stan's, but the man was an hour commute and he didn't want to not come home at the end of the night. He didn't want to remain angry at Butters, and he wanted to accept the man… but it was difficult to do so. He was just having a hard time swallowing it all, and another part of him was frightened. Butters wasn't some random bad guy like Punkster was, no, he was Chaos. As in _the _Chaos.

The blond man wandered the city for a while, debating on bothering Kyle in the dead of the night and deciding against it. The man was a lawyer and probably had to be up bright and earlier in the morning. So, opting to follow his father and brother's footsteps on problem solving, he went into a bar.

Drinking wasn't something that Kenny was big on. Mostly because he grew up with two alcoholic parents and, overall, drunks made him uneasy. Getting drunk, in Kenny's eyes, would make him lose control over his actions, and that was a big no-no. Still, the bar held the familiar air of his childhood and the safety of being with his parents.

The bar wasn't seedy or disgusting, it was more of a free lounge really, and it was open until 5AM. The blond man ran a hand through his hand as he sat on a plush stool at the bar itself and ordered a water. The bar tender gave him a soft smile.

"You came to a bar for water? Troubles at home?" He eyed Kenny's clothing. The blond man was still wearing his pajama top, although his heavy jacket was over it, when the coat was open the thermal shirt was quite visible.

"Something like that," Kenny sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. He thanked the barkeep for the water and drank it slowly, mulling things over. Butters was probably somewhere in the city right now with Mysterion. Jesus, Butters actually knew Mysterion. For a moment Kenny thought about asking if he could get an interview with the hero, or villain, whichever. That would give his career a nice shove upwards. Then he frowned at himself; it was little wonder why people hated reporters when they thought like _that_.

Kenny wasn't sure how long he moped at the bar, but after a while sleep was starting to tug at the edges of his mind. Stifling a yawn, he hopped from the stool and made his way out.

He was unaware of the man following him until he was hit in the back of the head and stuffed into the back of a car.

* * *

When Kenny came to he immediately realized that he was bound. Hands firmly strapped above his head and feet and legs held down at well, his body was laid out spread eagle.

Above him was an ugly, rusted, tin roof. His shirt was cut in half, the room that he was in was cold, and the table beneath his body was the type that morticians used. He recognized the feeling of the cold metal table underneath his body right away. With the exception of the bright light that was placed over him, everything around him was dark, causing the light to blind him even worse than it might have done in the daylight.

Maddened cackles filled in the air around him, and Kenny bit the inside of his cheek to prevent a horrified scream from escaping him. He knew where he was, he was in the torture room of the Supers' Serial Killer. And if people who trained themselves specifically for combat couldn't escape this man, then Kenny knew that he wouldn't be able to either.  
To the right of him there was a table full or instruments and tools. One of them being a sharp looking hacksaw.

_Oh God_, Kenny thought, _I'm going to die and I couldn't even tell Butters that I loved him one last time_.

Then the man came into view, and Kenny recognized him. The curly ginger hair and the grin on his face were all too familiar. The blond knew him, and had known him for most of his life. And Kenny couldn't help but feel helpless; there was no way of him being able to tell anyone who the killer was. Not when he was going to be dead soon.

"Now, do me a favor. I want you to scream real loud for me. Okay?" The ginger haired man smiled calmly, petting Kenny's hair. Kenny only prayed that his death would come quickly and that he'd have the ability to come back.

* * *

They searched and searched, the south side docks had so many warehouses that it was overwhelming for just Chaos and Mysterion, so they called in favors and asked for help.  
Punkster, Panther, and Wendy were called in. It was a bit awkward, vigilantes, villains, and a cop, working together. But they each knew what was important, and that they needed to cast aside their frivolous differences and get the real evil off of the streets. The reality of the town they lived in was that no one was truly all that bad, at least not the ones with masks.

By the time Wendy found the right warehouse it was already morning, and the docks were just starting to get busy.

When she saw Kenny's body she almost vomited. It had been years since Kenny had last died, and who knew how many hours he had been there. Had their group gotten there sooner they could've saved him.

Kenny's corpse was left in the same condition that The Coon's had been in. Chest cavity wide open and heart missing. She couldn't help but wonder if he'd be able to come back now that there was an organ missing from his original body. She wondered if he'd come back at all.

The raven haired woman took her gun out and searched the entire warehouse; with the exception of Kenny it was empty. Quickly leaving behind the body of her childhood friend, she went outside and flipped her phone open to dial Mysterion.

As soon as the supers showed up Wendy then called Clyde, requesting backup and am ambulance. They had found another body.

Chaos was the last one into the warehouse. By the time he took a step in Punkster and Panther were immediately trying to turn him around, the man honestly did not need to see what was there.

"Why? Who is it?" Chaos asked harshly, though there was worry evident on his face. "Craig, Bebe, move over." There was always a rule between them all, to never call each other by their first names if they could help it. With a surprising amount of hidden strength, he managed to push past Punkster and Panther, and made his way to Mysterion's side. Mysterion had taken his cloak off and thrown it to cover the victim's body.

"Butters, you shouldn't see who it is," Mysterion said sadly.

Chaos looked over at him. Hazel eyes narrowed down at the body, and with shaky hands he revealed the victims face.

"Oh God," Chaos' whisper was loud in the warehouse, it was desperate with anguish. He stared down at the face of his lover, hot tears filling his eyes as he gently cupped a cold cheek with his palm, "No. No. Oh God, _Kenny_."

Mysterion slowly removed Chaos' hand from Kenny's face, covering the corpse entirely again. Chaos stood there, body trembling and looking as if he were about to collapse next to the body of his lover.

Punkster went up to him and maneuvered him away from the others. "We have to get of here now. The cops are on their way," He said in a soft voice.

Chaos nodded, trying to hold himself together, but as soon as they were far away enough from the warehouse he leaned over the railing that separated the warehouses from the docks and the ocean and promptly threw up. Tears poured down from his eyes, he sobbed as he heaved.

"_He left before I got to say I loved him one last time_!" He cried out, anguish and misery rang clear through his voice. "I loved him." He whimpered.

After a short while he stopped, and Punkster took a hold of him again, leading Chaos away from the docks and towards his penthouse. He was hoping that perhaps there was a chance that Kenny would come alive again in a couple of days, but it had been three years since Kenny's last death. Somehow, Punkster doubted the man was going to come back.

* * *

Panther had stayed behind with Wendy and Mysterion, flagging down the police. She answered a few questions before leaving, unable to deal with anything.

The moment Wendy saw Clyde she burst into tears, three deaths in three days. One was her long time lover, and one was a good childhood friend. She couldn't hold herself together in front of anyone anymore.

"Fuck, Wendy," Clyde ran his hand over his face, escorting her to his car and leaving her in the backseat while he talked to Mysterion.

"Three murders in three days, but this one isn't in an alleyway," Clyde didn't want to look at Kenny's body.

"He probably saw us," Mysterion murmured. He wasn't wearing his cloak, and Clyde took in his raven colored hair. The chief of police knew this man. "He most likely made his escape before getting a chance to dump the body. And if that's the case then we've lost him again."

Clyde took out a cigarette, trying not to think that the last one he smoked was with the man they were carting away. "We'll search the place for fingertips, hair, anything we can find. In the meantime, I think it's best if you get out of here. I'm going to take Wendy to my place; Rebecca will be able to keep an eye on her."

The hero next to him nodded, "I'm going to do some research. I'll let you know if I find anything different then what you do. I'll also let Kenny's lover know, you won't have to worry about that."

Clyde nodded, turning to look at the warehouse before him, when he turned back to face Mysterion, the hero was gone.

* * *

He broke into Kyle's apartment easily; the man was eating a bagel and getting ready for work.

"Stan? What the— you could've knocked on the window or something!" Kyle sputtered, almost choking on the bite of food that he had just taken.

Stan threw his arms around Kyle and held onto the man tightly, "The fucker killed another person. We were right on him, right fucking on him!" His body was trembling as he held the redhead, "He fucking killed Kenny."

Kyle took in the words of his Super Best Friend and slowly wrapped his arms around the other man, burrowing his face in Stan's shoulder. "That bastard."

* * *

TBC

* * *

**Translations:**

Qui est-il amour? – Who is it love?

Deux scélérats ici pour des affaires avec vous.- Two miscreants here for business with you.

N'offrez pas à ces deux idiots mon thé – Do not offer these two idiots my tea

Moi - Me

Mon ami – My friend

Un baiser – A kiss

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* * *

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**ECK**: This chapter was a bit of a filler, I admit. But I like the way it's going hehe. Please review!


	4. General Disarray

Title:** Falling out of Disarray**

Genre: Crime/Mystery/Drama/Sci Fi (With a hint of romance.)

Rating: M

Disclaimer: I no own

Summary: Slightly AU. – "This city needs a hero." Simple words from people who had never faced a real villain. No worries, I'll be that bad guy that you need. - Bunny, Style, Candy, Creek, etc.

Warning: This has boy-love along with some het, coupling includes – Bunny, Style, Candy, Creek, Tobe, Chregory, and Clyred. Also: THIS CHAPTER HAS SPOILERS. If you haven't seen the 200th episode then you have been warned.

_A BIG THANK YOU_ to my beta **Hot Monkey Brain**, I love you!

* * *

**4**

General Disarray

* * *

Stan woke up next to Kyle in a heap of limbs that were so intertwined it was difficult to know which belonged to whom. He wasn't sure when he fell asleep, only that he had been desperate to be with the man, to have him near and hold him close. Both men had called in a sick day, and Stan even managed to imitate Kenny's voice well enough to call in for him also, just in case the man _did_ come back from the dead.

Kyle was nude, pale freckled arm flung over Stan's waist. His curly hair was wilder than ever, and Stan resisted the urge to trace the freckles that were dusting the top of the other mans pale back. The raven haired man had been desperately needy the night before, things had gotten heated between the two and he could feel his face flush at the thought of Kyle writhing beneath him wantonly.

Slowly, he disentangled the two of them and rolled out of Kyle's large bed, sitting on the edge. His own body ached pleasantly, the natural buzz from the night prior still pulsing throughout him.

"Mphgg," Kyle grumbled from inside the pillow his face was lying against. There was a small trail of drool coming out of his mouth, and Stan wondered if his best friend had always drooled. It was endearing. His heart suddenly twisted, he had no right to enjoy Kyle when Butters had just lost Kenny, something that could have been prevented had they gotten there sooner.

Kyle rolled over and snuggled next to Stan's sitting form, nuzzling the man's bare thigh. "You think way too much for such an early time." His brown eyes peered up at Stan and his pianists fingers traced whatever scars that were within reach.

Stan sighed and ran a hand through Kyle's messy red hair, blue eyes closed briefly. "I was thinking about yesterday."

"Stan," Kyle's voice was in a no-nonsense tone, "You couldn't have stopped it from happening. It happened. All you can do now is hunt this sicko down before he chooses another victim."

"They were all your friends too Kyle." Stan stated softly, he sounded tired. Defeated.

The redhead beside him took a shaky breath, "They were." He stared at the wall next to his bed for a few silent moments before continuing, "And I don't want their deaths to be in vain. Someone will find this guy Stan. And justice will be brought upon him, you'll see."

It amazed Stan how idealistic Kyle had remained over the years. He never lost his belief in the justice system; something that Stan knew was corrupt and twisted. Just like the rest of the world. He thought back to Kenny's last words to him, before he had visited as Mysterion.

_The world's an ugly place Stanny, and sometimes I regret saving it_. Stan could see why Kenny regretted it. He could feel a lump form in his throat at the mere thought of Kenny. His last image of the man had been with his chest cavity pried open and a vital organ missing. It was something that he did not want to remember.

The raven haired man kept one hand in Kyle's hair while the other went to his eyes, covering them from his lover so that the other wouldn't notice the tears in them. Heroes were always brave, heroes didn't cry over their failures.

* * *

Rebecca sighed as she woke up bright and early. She had spent a good portion of the night trying to calm Wendy down enough to take a sleeping aid and go to sleep in their spare bedroom. The room was going to be a baby's nursery soon, but neither she nor Clyde had even gotten around to putting a crib up, or anything else that would be in an infant's bedroom.

Clyde was already at the table, drinking his mug of black coffee and staring at the wall before him. He glanced up at his wife and felt a wave of warm love flood throughout his body at the sight of her. He loved her, God did he love her.

"Would you like some breakfast?" She asked, pulling her short red hair back into a stub of a ponytail.

"I love you," Clyde said suddenly, feeling it fiercely. Kenny's death had just reminded him that he should appreciate the one he had while he had her.

Rebecca smiled shyly at him, and for a moment it felt as if they were both children again, back in middle school and admitting their feelings for one another. "I love you too."

A sharp knock on their front door made both adults look towards it. Who would knock on their door so early in the morning? It wasn't Mysterion, both of them knew that the man would crawl in through a window or something similar.

Taking out his State issued gun, Clyde made his way towards the front door, checked through the peephole and opened it with a confused look on his face. On the others side stood none other than Philip Pirrup.

"Good morning, I'm so sorry for the intrusion." Pip said, although he looked a bit weary.

"What're you doing here?" Clyde asked, eyeing the Englishman.

This is where Rebecca stepped in, hand on her protruding belly, "You do realize that I had quit, right?"

Pip stared at her swollen abdomen for a moment before sighing and rubbing his eyes, "May I come in please? Even though you're no longer Red I do have some information that you could pass on. Also, the fact that your husband a police officer means that he might want to hear this as well."

Just like that, they let him into their home. Pip had grown a lot over the years, yet despite all of it he was still as polite and courteous as ever. He graciously accepted a cup of coffee, because he looked almost ready to pass out on his feet, and sat at the kitchen table across from the married couple.

"What've you heard?" Rebecca asked, and for a moment Clyde saw Red Hood instead of his sweet wife.

"I've spoke to Scott Tenorman," Pip took a small sip from his hot mug, "We all knew that he was Eric's half-brother and that he wanted Eric dead more than anyone else."

"He's our main suspect," Clyde agreed with a nod.

"Yes, well, he was not the one to kill The Coon. The list of who wanted to kill Eric was quite long, this we all know. We also know, however, that Scott was at the very top. Scott was a bit distraught by his half-brothers death, since he _did_ want to kill Eric. He checked himself into a mental faculty early last night, unable to cope with losing his chance at revenge." The blond pinched the bridge of his nose for a few milliseconds before taking in a deep breath and continuing. "So, I went snooping around some more—"

"Wait," Clyde suddenly cut in, "Why're you even interested in this case?"

Pip looked as if he were resisting the urge to roll his eyes. "Because I'm a P.I my good chap. And I was hired by Scott to do so. The man is unbelievably wealthy you know; he had a mighty large inheritance left to him from his late parents."

Clyde looked as if he wanted to say something else, but Rebecca's hand on his stopped him from doing so.

"Keep going Pip," The redheaded woman encouraged.

"Right-o," Pip nodded, "As I was saying, I went snooping around some more and ended up running into Damien."

The mention of the antichrist caused all of them to shiver slightly. There was no such thing as a good memory of Damien Thorne. Especially for Pip, who just happened to be the man's ex-lover.

"Anyway," Pip continued, "He told me that Kenny was in Hell. Apparently Kenny said that his killer was someone from our childhood. Also, Kenny said to watch after Butters. To keep Butters safe. Damien didn't go further into detail than that."

"Someone we knew from when we were kids? That narrows it down, but not by a lot," Clyde sighed.

"I must be going now," Pip stated, "I shall let you both know if there is anything else I find about this."

"Thank you Pip," Rebecca said kindly. The blond man gave her a rueful smile and let himself out of their small house.

* * *

Tweek was trembling as he drank his coffee that morning. He woke up to Butters cooking breakfast, and that had caused him to nearly have a mental break down. It wasn't until he screamed bloody murder that Craig woke up, calmed him down, and explained everything. For that split second beforehand though, Tweek had started coming up with a million theories as to why Butters was there. On the top of that list was that Craig was having an affair, but that hadn't been it at all. No, it was because Kenny was dead. Again.

At first Tweek was confused, until Craig was forced to tell the man that Kenny had been killed by the serial killer that was mentioned on the news every night, and that Butters had found his body. It wasn't that Tweek didn't like Butters; it was that he knew the other man had closer friends than he and Craig. But instead of being suspicious about it, the multimillionaire let it go.

He watched Butters move around the kitchen with ease, not looking a thing like a man who had just found the love of his life's corpse. Tweek didn't think he would've been so put together. No, he'd probably have stopped taking his pills and would've been clawing at the walls until they were forced to escort him to the loony bin.

Butters was chopping tomatoes to go into the omelet that he was making for breakfast. It was the type of omelet that had pieces of ham, chopped up scallions, chopped up chives, chopped cherry tomatoes, and tons of cheese to top it off. It made Tweek's mouth water, he wasn't one for breakfast but this was making him hungry.

"Any particular reason as to why you wanted omelets?" He asked Butters while taking a nervous sip of his coffee.

Butters suddenly stopped and took in a deep, shaky, breath, "Because it was Kenny's favorite." His bottom lip trembled and he suddenly threw everything into the sink, filling the garbage disposal and making use of it. Butters was at his breaking point.

Tweek winced. He wasn't sure what to say to the man, who was obviously in pain. The noise of the dishes clattering in the sink was enough to wake up Craig again, who looked as if he were startled to consciousness. When Tweek thought about it, he probably was.

"What's going on?" He asked, frown marring his face. Usually his features held nothing but sarcasm, however at that moment it was of deep pity and sadness. "Butters, stop, I'll clean this up, okay?"

"It's not o-fucking-kay," Butters rasped. He leaned against the counter top and rested his head in his arms.

Craig looked just as lost as Tweek was. How were they to comfort this man? Was there a way to even do it? Suddenly Butters stood up, he searched his pockets for a moment (they were jeans that Craig had leant him) and nodded to himself.

"I really appreciate you two putting me up for the night, but I think I should just go home," Butters stated.

The two lovers exchanged looks. It was a silent way of communication that most soul mates managed to acquire. Craig and Tweek were no exception.

"Maybe it's best if you stay another night." Craig said slowly. He felt as if he were approaching a cornered wild animal. The raven haired man honestly had no idea as to how Butters was going to react.

"I couldn't possibly put you guys out for another night." Although all three men knew that what was coming out of Butters mouth as pure bullshit. Tweek was loaded with money, and they all knew that Butters being there for a few days would do nothing to the man's pocket. The extra water usage, electricity, food consummation – none of those would make a dent in whatever Tweek had in the bank. But it was clear that Butters did want to go home, and who were Craig and Tweek to suggest otherwise?

"At least let me call a car to drive you," Tweek suggested in a small voice. He almost sounded as if he were pleading. He may not have been close to Butters, but he did not want to the man on the streets in the emotional condition that he was currently in.

"I…" Butters started, but paused in order to gather his thoughts. "Okay, that'd be wonderful, thank you." He said quietly, running a hand through his short blond hair and yanking at the follicles lightly.

Tweek nodded and left the kitchen in search for his phone, knowing just the car service to call.

Craig looked over at Butters, "I'm going to be honest when I say that I don't think it's a good idea for you to go home. Not when there's a serial killer still on the loose killing off whatever masked person they could find. And the fact that they—that Kenny was one of their victims…they might be after you."

The blank look that Butters gave Craig made the other man feel edgy.

"Thanks for the concern." But Butters' voice was bland, dull, and without any type of sincerity. "I think I can manage though."

"The car's outside for you," Tweek said softly as he came back into the kitchen. He was shaking slightly, having just taken his medication. The medication used to make him feel paranoid and he had originally hated it. Now, Tweek knew that if he were to ever not take the stuff then he'd be in big trouble.

"Thanks, you two." Butters said, this time his eyes were warm and his bottom lip trembled slightly. Thankfully, however, he did not shed a tear as he let himself out of the penthouse. The elevator ride was too long for his liking, but he managed to get himself back together by the time he reached the ground floor.

The early morning light shone down on Butters brightly, the winter air crisp in his lungs, almost reminding him of his childhood back in South Park.

The car that was sent was a regular black town car. The type that wealthy businessmen often rode in, but he supposed that was exactly what Tweek was these days. The car's driver let Butters into the backseat, and the blond only gave the man a glance, although, to be fair it was hardly even that. He was too busy caught up in his own misery to notice much.

"Where to sir?" The driver asked. There was something in the man's voice which caused Butters head to snap up. In the rearview mirror he could see cold brown eyes staring right back at him; it sent shivers down his spine. As discreetly as possible, the blond took his cell out and texted Stan.

**SOS. Track my cell.**

"Do I know you?" Butters asked cautiously, cursing the fact that he couldn't unlock the doors. Most likely the child safety locks were in place.

"You should," The driver's voice held a smirk.

_Oh fuck_, Butters thought, trying not to show his panic. He slowly forwarded the message he sent to Stan so that it went to Craig as well. Craig was the last person to see him alive, maybe Tweek's phone call had been intercepted by this monster who was in the car with him.

"Don't worry Butters; I'll take wonderful care of you."

Just the way he said it made Butters' blood go cold. "I thought that you were still in jail for that rape charge. Obviously not. How'd you get out? Good behavior?" He was thinking of a way to break the glass backseat windows. He wished that he had a habit of carrying around spark plugs, and then he'd be able to break a window, open the door from the outside, and roll out into traffic. Somehow Butters knew that getting hit by a truck would be a much better outcome than whatever was waiting for him.

"You know, I killed a lot of people to get here," The driver was glanced at him from the rear view mirror. "When I saw Kenny, I knew that you were here. Idid all of those for you Butters."

He had cooed at Butters, affection and adoration dripping from his voice, which caused the blond in the backseat to gag. He wanted to vomit, he wanted to cry. He especially wanted to kill the man who was driving the car, if only he carried a weapon around with him. He wanted revenge for Kenny's death.

Making sure to stay silent and discreet, he called Stan, even if it went to voicemail he'd be able to leave the message that he wanted to.

"So…where exactly are we going if you don't mind my asking?" Butters asked as calmly as possible. His heart was beating a mile a second.

"Tut tut Butters, you know I'd never tell you that. It'd ruin the surprise." The other man responded.

"Dougie, please—"

"_Do __**not**__ call me that_!" The driver hissed, swerving a bit. "Call me General Disarray."

* * *

**TBC**

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**ECK**: Short! Sorry about that, I didn't know what else I could've written, since everything I want to write is for the last chapter. Yeah, next chapter is in fact that last one. Please review, flames are very welcome!


	5. The End

Before I start this chapter I have how everyone's costume's look listed below. In case anyone's wondering:

**Mysterion** – A long black hooded cloak (he's always wearing his hood) with a black mask over his eyes that covers his nose as well. His outfit is a black muscle shirt (long sleeved), thin black leather gloves, he has a black utility belt around his waist too. Fitted black pants on as well. And thick black boots on his feet. Which made seem impractical considering all of the running he does, but they works wonders when he kicks a guy in the face.

**Professor Chaos** – His blond hair is messy and spiked in every angle so he looks like a mad scientist, he wears large metal framed goggles over his eyes. Around his neck is a dark brown cowl like cloak which falls to his knees, he uses it to cover himself from harsh weather. Underneath the cloak he has on a turquoise vest with a white button up underneath. He has brown sued gloves on. His pants are also dark brown, and have large cargo pockets on the side, and are tucked into calf high brown boots.

**Panther** – A black trench coat (always closed because all she has on is a black leotard underneath it), fishnet stockings, with black knee high boots, and a black mask on her face which goes from her forehead to just above her mouth. Her blond hair is up in two buns on either side of her head.

**Punkster** – His hair is gelled up in a fohawk, bright blue gel used from the middle to the tip. Silver jacket with the sleeves scrunched up and the collar popped, it had lots of pockets all over the front. Black gentlemen gloves, a black shirt beneath coat, black cargos, and silver converse on his feet. He wears silver plated goggles as well.

**Red Hood** – Long, knee-length, red coat with hood. Black thigh high boots. Fishnet stockings, red short-short overalls with a black t-shirt underneath. Black gloves. She wore her red hair short so that it was framing her face at all times. Along with a simple slip of a black mask over her eyes.

**The Coon** – He wore a black and dark brown striped shirt which were long sleeved and had a white "C" in the middle of his chest, along with black gloves that had pointed finger tips. The shirt was tucked into his black cargos, and the cargos were tucked into black construction boots. He had a red utility belt around his waist. Red goggles were on his face and a black beanie over his head.

* * *

Title:** Falling out of Disarray**

Genre: Crime/Mystery/Drama/Sci Fi (With a hint of romance.)

Rating: M

Disclaimer: I no own

Summary: Slightly AU. – "This city needs a hero." Simple words from people who had never faced a real villain. No worries, I'll be that bad guy that you need. - Bunny, Style, Candy, Creek, etc.

Warning: This has boy-love along with some het, coupling includes – Bunny, Style, Candy, Creek, Tobe, Chregory, and Clyred.

_A BIG THANK YOU_ to my (sexy, beautiful, totally rad) beta **Hot Monkey Brain**, I love you!

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**5**

The End

* * *

"You know, for the longest time all I heard were the words "This city needs a hero." Which were such simple words from people who had never faced a real villain. No worries, and no need to thank me, I've decided to be that bad guy that this city needs." Disarray practically giggled as he turned towards a particular building.

It was the old abandoned mall which was on the outskirts of town; that was where General Disarray had taken him. Butters had said it out loud and towards his phone, something that Disarray probably had no idea he had.

The next thing Butters knew, Disarray had stopped the car and turned around to face him. Butters wanted to attack the man, but he had no weapons on him, and he doubted a cell phone (which he had dropped by his feet as soon as the driver turned around) counted.

"Butters, have I ever told you how beautiful you are?" The man asked, his copper curls fell effortlessly around his face. They matched his freckles perfectly.

The blond in the backseat bit his tongue to prevent himself from saying anything that would upset Disarray. This was the man who had over killed six supers and one civilian within the last three months. He took down the Coon, and he took down Kenny, neither were easy feats. Both of those men knew how to fight, and knew how to use their bodies just so. Although Butters had an advantage that the other victims did not, he was awake for the entire abduction. Disarray had a habit of knocking his victims unconscious before drugging them and then waiting for them to wake up before having his fun with them.

Hazel eyes narrowed up at Disarray with distaste.

"Don't give me that look," Disarray said, voice sounding lazy and playful, but his eyes were sharp. It was then that Butters began to realize just how insane the man had become. "You left me to rot in prison Butters. Why would you do that to me?"

"You raped a little girl," Butters glared daggers at him now, disgust pouring over him. "You fucking **raped **a _nine year old_ _girl_. What did you expect me to fucking do?"

"Don't talk to me that way Butters sweetheart, your life is in my hands you know." Disarray stated idly.

"You're already gonna fucking kill me; I don't see the point in fearing you." He wondered what Kenny felt in the last precious moments of his life. Oh God, Kenny. Butters wanted to kill Dougie were he sat, perched on the front seat, facing Butters with a smug look on his face.

"I love you too much to just kill you silly; we're going to have some fun first."

Without warning the blond man lunged, his hands wrapping around Disarray's neck.

It was difficult, and Butters knew that he wasn't holding onto the man all that well, with the seat in-between them. He tried to maneuver it so that he had a better grip. Not that it mattered, Disarray was cackling the entire time.

"Yes, kill me, stoop down to my level." He managed to wheeze, grinning madly at the other.

Butters grit his teeth, "I'm not stooping to your level. I'm not a rapist, or a serial killer, I'm just bringing down vengeance on your happy ass."

* * *

Punkster and Mysterion made it to the abandoned mall at the same time. They stared at each other before splitting up and going around the mall.

Outside in the parking lot facing east was a single car. The sight of it made Punkster's blood run cold. He took out his cell and called Mysterion over before heading towards the car. The silence around him was deafening, and his own footsteps seemed too loud.

The sight of Butters tying up a man with duct tape made Punkster's heart skip a beat as he opened the back door and caused the other to jump back into a defensive position.

"Oh God, it's only you," Butters breathed, dragging the man out of the car and onto the pavement beneath Punksters' feet.

"Is that him?" Punkster asked, adjusting the goggles that were covering his eyes. They were there to hide his identity, just in case. "Is this the guy who…?" He left his questioning hanging.

"Yeah," Butters replied, giving the taped up man a swift kick in the kidneys. "Yeah, this is him."

"Is he dead?" Mysterion asked from behind Punkster, causing the villain to jump and turn around to face him.

Punkster had a hand over his heart dramatically. "It's the middle of the day and you still managed to sneak up on me, you're a freak of nature."

Butters shook his head, "He's not dead. But I wanted to kill him, oh God how I wanted to kill him." He was trembling, hand holding onto Disarray's hair tightly as he yanked at it. "And what gets me is…what really gets me is that he _let_ me tie him up. He _let _me take him down."

Mysterion stepped in, gently removing Butters from the man. "I've called the police; they're going to want to question you. Are you up for that?"

Butters just nodded in response, not quite trusting his voice.

Punkster remained right next to Disarray, foot resting idly on the man's back. Butters did a good job of hog-tying him, only with his limbs resting on the back of his body rather than the front. The way Disarray was reminded Punkster of South Park, and when they used to have fairs. There had been a competition where people had to catch a pig and wrestle it to submission until they were able to tie it. Disarray looked like one of those pigs. It was also easier to keep an eye on where the man's hands were. What put the icing on the proverbial cake was the duct tape over the man's mouth.

"The press is gonna have a field day with this," Punkster mumbled, giving the man at his feet a kick as well. Although compared to Butters previous kick, his was lazy.

"Speaking of which," Mysterion seemed to produce a camera out of nowhere and took a photo Disarray, and then took a few photos of the car and the area around them.

Butters gave him a disgusted look, but refrained from saying anything. Stan still needed to work and make money in order to pay off his bills; he couldn't judge the man for that. The sound of sirens in the distance hit their ears and the blond noticed how Punkster tensed.

"That's my cue to leave," the villain stated, he looked at Butters before heading towards his car. "Are you going to be okay?" He touched Butter's elbow gently.

Butters nodded, but he could still feel anger bubbling at the surface, just underneath his skin. "I'm as okay as I can be." He stated honestly, and gave the man a watery smile.

"Stop by later, yeah? For dinner or something, you need a good meal in you." He gave Butters a brief, manly, and sudden, hug. "If you don't I'll hunt you down." It was a mocking threat, with a warm undertone.

"I almost feel bad for Donovan; it's going to be a circus soon." Mysterion stated as soon as Punkster was gone.

A circus was an understatement, it was hectic. They got a warrant for Disarray's car, house, and anything else that was under the man's name. They found the missing organs, which he had apparently begun to eat. He had claimed that hearts from the brave would make him immune to fear.

It was needless to say that he was given a physic evaluation, but was deemed sane enough to stand at a trial.

* * *

Eric Cartman's funeral wasn't like other ones. Wendy managed to get him a service in South Park, but since he was cremated his remains stayed with her. People from everywhere had gone and given their condolences and respects. At the very back of the large group she had spied Scott Tenorman, leaning heavily against his cane. She supposed that the funeral was closure for a lot of people.

There was also a large burial for each hero and even villain that was killed by "The Super Serial Killer" as people tended to call him. A monument with their names carved onto the front side was dedicated to them, but Wendy knew that one day they would all be forgotten.

She placed Eric's urn on the mantle of her fireplace, reminding herself to take them with her the next time she went to the ocean. He would've wanted to be spread across the ocean. She blinked the tears out of her eyes and pretended that they were never there to begin with.

She put a hand to her lower abdomen; she lifted her shirt and looked at her stomach from the side. She was eight weeks along now. Eight weeks. Wendy sighed before getting dressed in a black dress skirt and button up blouse, along with practical, small heeled, shoes. Today was going to be the first day of many in a long trial against Disarray.

* * *

The court house was more of a madhouse by the time Wendy got there. She flashed her badge and was ushered in.

"Hey." Stan's voice caused Wendy to literally jump a few inches into the air.

"How'd you get in here?" She hissed, grabbing his hand and leading him towards the right court room.

Stan shrugged, and Wendy eyed him. He was wearing a dark blue suit which looked entirely too expensive for him. It probably belonged to Kyle. His black hair was combed back and he looked debonair. "I broke in."

Wendy had to keep herself from gaping like a fish and merely shook her head. "_Really_ Stan? I would ask how you did it, but I think it's better off if I don't know."

They walked into the courtroom and spotted Rebecca right away, her bright red hair sticking out in the dull shades of browns, blonds, and blacks. There were two pews filled with people that they knew, people that they had grown up with. The first row was only Clyde, Rebecca, and Bebe. The second row was Butters, Tweek, Craig, Christophe and Gregory. Stan nodded at Wendy as she slid in next to Clyde, Stan sat next to her.

Across from them was a row of gothic looking people, most likely family or friends of The Vulture. In fact that was the entire courtroom was filled with; families and close loved ones to the Supers that were killed by Disarray.

In front of their row were Kyle and Token, DA and ADA, talking quietly to each other and preparing their case, their words, and their actions.

Wendy looked around the courtroom and noticed, with a bit of surprise, Scott Tenorman sitting at the very back. Beside him was Pip, and in front of them was Damien of all people.

Everyone rose when the Honorable Judge walked into the room and sat right after she did. Then everyone was brought to order and the trial really begun. This trial was not done before a jury, only the judge.

And when the trial started, it **really** _started_.

Kyle was vicious, passionate; his entire aura screamed I WILL NOT LOSE THIS CASE. He was impressive. Much more than the attorney that was representing Dougie. Kyle was not looking for leniency; he was looking for death row, preferably with a short line.

I WILL NOT LOSE THIS CASE. Kyle called his first witness, Leopold Stotch.

Butters stood up on shaky legs, heading up towards the judge before taking his seat. He was nervous; despite how many times he and Kyle went through this. Dougie was making eyes at him from where he sat next to his lawyer.

"How do you know Mr. Dubois?" That was Kyle's starting statement.

"We've known each other since I was eight and he was seven. We hung out with each other because our parents were friends, and grew up with each other." Butters answered calmly.

"And, when did you two stop talking? Stop being friends?"

Butters went silent at the question, he remembered it perfectly well. When he opened his mouth to answer his voice sounded far away to his own ears, "I was eighteen when it happened. And it was on Dougie's eighteenth birthday, we're only a few months apart so we'd be the same age for a while. We had agreed to meet at Stark's Pond to drink a couple of illegal beers in celebration.

"I had gotten to the pond at the time that he wanted to meet, and immediately heard screaming. I went to check it out and Dougie was there, with a little girl. And he was…he was r-raping her. I tackled him off of her, he…resisted…" Resisted was the easiest way to put it, Dougie had fought tooth and nail against Butters, "I threw my cell to the girl and told her to call the cops. That was the last time that I saw him. Until recently."

After that the real questions started, and Butters wasn't sure if he was answering them correctly or not, it was all very dizzying. He kept his eyes on lawyers the entire time, not allowing himself to look at Dougie.

There had been questions about Kenny in there, and Butters had to stop himself from bursting out into tears of anger. Why hadn't he killed Dougie when he had the chance? Nobody would've known.

He hadn't realized that he was done until the judge asked him kindly to step down.

The trial had gone one for two hours before given a recess. Kyle all but stomped out of the court room, needing to take a break from it all before snapping at anyone. The defendant's lawyer had begun with antagonizing Butters about what his questionable relationship with Dougie originally was and nearly asking flat out if he were an accomplice. And then he began to ask inappropriate questions about Kenny. The redhead wondered if the defendant was just trying to causea mistrial on purpose. Butters had been on the verge of tears as he got up from the bench.

Kyle ran a furious hand through his hair and took in deep breaths as he sat on the bench just outside of the court room.

"Are you alright?"

The feet before him were in black dress shoes, and black slacks that looked perfect on long legs.

"You know the only reason why Christophe is here is because the payment for telling where Disarray's warehouse was located was a kiss from you? I heard that from Damien since, you know, he knows _all_." The dress shoes tapped the recognizable beat of _Shave and a Haircut Tap Tap_, "Are you going to look at me Ky? Because I'm willing to bet that I can be pretty helpful with all of this."

Kyle was scared to look up. He took in a few gulps of air as he gathered his courage and moved his brown eyes upwards, his breath hitching in his throat.

"I'd like to call a surprise witness up to the stand your Honor," Kyle stated once back in the courtroom. Token looked up at him in surprise.

"What the hell are you doing? What surprise witness?" He murmured to the man, eyes darting over to the defendant.

"Just trust me, okay?" Kyle asked. Token gave him a look but let it go.

"Proceed, and please tell me you're going somewhere with this Mr. Broflovski." The judge frowned.

Kyle nodded nervously, he caught Stan's eye and felt calm afterwards. "I'd like to call Kenneth McCormick to the stand."

There was a hush in the court room. Even Dougie seemed to be straining to see the man in question.

Kenny had this thing with Death. In fact he considered the two of them very close friends. The man had seen death so many times in his life that he knew what the very smell of it was like. He got up from his spot at the back of the courtroom, stoic look on his face as he breezed towards the front, shooting a knowing wink at his friends along the way. He refused to look at Butters, no because he didn't want to see the man, but because he didn't want to see the look of pure heartbreak on his lovers face.

The moment Kenny sat at the bench Dougie stood up with surprise, "You shouldn't be alive!"

The judge yelled at Dougie to sit or she'd have him in contempt.

Kenny was questioned and took all of it with a calm look of indifference almost. He told his version of everything, it not a little tweaked. Everything that came out of his mouth was as smooth as silk, and nothing but the truth.

The defendant stood up and strode over to Kenny, "And what is your relationship with Mr. Stotch?"

Kenny regarded the lawyer coolly. "I don't think that my relationship with Leopold is the issue in this trial."

It was time for the evidence to be brought up. And there was a lot of it, including the refrigerator full of hearts they found in a storage facility that was under Dougie's elderly grandmother's name.

After Kenny gave his piece he left, motioning slightly for Butters to follow him. Butters wasn't the only one though, Stan, Bebe, Clyde, Wendy, and Craig did as well.

"When did you get back?" Stan asked bluntly.

Kenny continued to walk until he was out of the court house and on the sidewalk; he fished out his carton of cigarettes from his pocket and lit on up, inhaling deeply. "This morning." He stated simply, looking tired. "I heard about what was going on here and decided to show up, see if there was anything I can do. I want that bastard dead."

"He let himself get caught," Butters stated in a low voice, eyes focused down on his shoes. "It's worrisome. I just can't figure out why."

As soon as the words escaped him the side of the court house, where the trail was being held, exploded.

The seven of them stared with wide eyes as the heat from the explosion hit them.

"KYLE!" Stan screamed.

Craig looked sick, "Oh god Tweek, TWEEK!"

The two of them began to run towards that part of the part of the courthouse that was on the verge of collapsing in on itself. Bebe and Clyde after them.

"_Token,"_ Bebe felt panic surge through her form as she moved the best way that she could through it all in her heels and skirt.

"REBECCA!" Clyde began to claw his way through.

Wendy had taken her cell phone out and called 9-1-1, acting like the detective that she was. Butters stared at the damage that was done, there was a possibility that people survived, but not the judge, or the stenographer, or anyone sitting even near the front. He felt sick.

From his peripheral vision he could see Him. Dougie was dirty, bloody, and there was a mad grin on his face as he waved at Butters before turning and running away from the scene as fast as he could. But Dougie, as dangerous as he was, as _smart_ as he was for planting such a bomb, was the least of Butters worries at that moment and the man knew that.

Kenny took Butters hand tightly and kept it close to his body, "They'll be okay." And Butters hoped to God that Kenny was right.

* * *

The emergency room was a chaotic mess; the explosion did take a few lives. The judge, stenographer and defense lawyer were all killed. The Supers Serial Killer had escaped, and almost everyone else was severely injured.

Clyde ran his hands through his hair as he barked out orders to police and talked to everyone that needed him. He tried not to think of his wife and unborn child, both of which were undergoing surgery for an emergency C-section. It needed to be done otherwise one or the other would die. He didn't want to think about it, he didn't want to deal with it, and so he threw himself into his work.

Bebe sat on one of the benches in the waiting room, her hair undone and dirt smudging her face and hands. Token had been okay, a fractured wrist. But since it was one of the least severe injuries he'd have to wait for his turn.

Christophe came out of the ER, wheeling Gregory; the man's legs had been broken in the blast. "He tried to kill ze fucker," He motioned to Gregory as Bebe gave him a questioning look, "he tried to shoot 'im with ze bailiffs gun. 'owever ze most zat he could do was lunge at ze man. Now look at 'im, in a wheel chair for ze next six weeks. Tell ze DA zat I will collect my payment later."

Then the two were gone, with Gregory muttering something about how Frenchmen were careless bastards.

Stan watched them go and pinched the bridge of his nose. A nurse came up to him and told him that Kyle was fine, but they wanted to keep him overnight for observation. The man had a concussion, nothing too serious, but she asked if Stan wanted to stay with him. The raven haired man nearly kissed her before heading towards the elevators to the floor where they were keeping Kyle.

He looked over at Butters and Kenny; the two were there to make sure that everyone else was okay.

"You know that he did this on purpose. Whether he was trying to show us his power over us, the fact that he could kill any of us at any moment, or something else. He'll be after Butters again." Stan had said it so certainly, so sure of himself that it was difficult to deny it.

A little down the hall the could hear Clyde's sob of relief as the doctors came out and told him that his wife and daughter were going to be fine. Despite being three months premature, his daughter had a strong heart and was a survivor. They asked him if he wanted to see them.

Further down the hall Pip and Damien were leaving the hospital togetherand Token was wincing as a nurse snapped his wrist back in place. And Butters couldn't help but wonder if Disarray had done the least amount of damage as possible, just to prove his point.

"Move Marsh!" Craig nearly snapped, he was a mess as well, "Tweek was moved upstairs, and you're blocking the elevators."

"I'll go with you," Stan stated before looking at the blond duo, "Just think about what I said guys."

"He's right you know," Kenny said, looking tired and worn.

Butters nodded, "I know Ken. I know."

* * *

**3 Months Later**

Wendy packed the last of her boxes up and smiled over at Bebe, "Thanks so much for everything Be."

"It's the least I can do for my maid of honor," Bebe smiled back while handing Token a box to take to the moving truck that was parked on the street below. "I still can't believe you're moving back to South Park."

"It's for the baby." The raven haired woman sighed, "And Liane agreed to let me stay with her, she has money, and I need that stability. Besides, it's her grandchild. And, anyway, I just can't stay here. Everything here reminds me of Eric, I mean, South Park won't be any better, but at least there I'll have someone who'll miss him just as much as I do."

Bebe moved a piece of her long hair out of her face and nodded, "I know… but you'll be back in time for the wedding, right?"

"Of course! I won't miss that for the world."

On the other side of town Kenny was making his way home, having taken half the day off. He walked through the dingy alleyway which also provided as a shortcut, trying not to think about the fact that where he walked had once had the body of The Coon splattered all over it.

He lit a cigarette and inhaled to calm his nerves, he had just gotten a promotion and was nervous about telling Butters, not that his lover wouldn't support him. In the alleyway were wanted posters for Dougie Duboiss AKA Disarray AKA The Super Serial Killer. Dougie's smirking face surrounded him and boiled Kenny's blood, but he left the posters alone.

The man would no doubt find a way to get back to Butters, and Kenny vowed that when he showed up again he'd kill Disarray. Even if it were to be with his bare hands, nothing mattered to Kenny, he didn't care if he were killed or taken to prison. As long as he could keep Butters safe.

The entryway to his apartment building came into view and Kenny took his keys out. From his peripheral vision he could see Mysterion watching him, a silent bodyguard of sorts.

He waved at Mysterion as he entered his building, closing the door firmly behind him.

* * *

**FIN**

* * *

Theme song to this fic:

http: / www. youtube. com/ watch?v= sN5lbD1nI8g

(Don't forget to take the spaces out)

* * *

**ECK**: Dubois is the name that I chose for Dougie since originally he doesn't have one. This was all so anti-climactic, and I'm sorry if it sucks, but this is the way I wanted it be. Please review, flames are always welcome. Thank you so much for reading!


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